And one day when you push everyone that tries to love you away with no exceptions and understanding (because no one owes you any), you'll sit and think about me. The person that accepted every flaw and distortion, the one that cried in their sleep while you suspected nothing. The one that begged and begged, not for change, nor for closure and an explanation.
You'll realise, ironically, too late it was a mistake – pushing the purest form of love away; love that burned even 1997 km away; you will feel what I did, but too late. Or maybe not, I'll hold on until eternity if it means this is real, so fix yourself.
I'm still here.
With love, R
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 8:22 PM UTC